


Boxing Club

by taigae



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Gen, Rare Pairings, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taigae/pseuds/taigae
Summary: written for the voyager writing game tumblr prompt: rarepair + “hell no”
Relationships: Chakotay/Samantha Wildman
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Boxing Club

**Author's Note:**

> i will build this ship from the ground up, so help me.

“Alright, I’ll say it. It was a little boring.”

Sam laughed and looked over at her friend, who was still splayed out on her yoga mat, staring at the ceiling. “Please, tell me how you really feel.”

Nicoletti pushed herself up onto her elbows and gestured towards the glass wall front of the studio, which opened up directly onto a serene ocean view. “It’s lovely, Sam, it really is. Very peaceful. It’s just... I don’t know if yoga is for me.”

“Alright,” Sam replied, laughing and rolling up her mat. “I hear you. You choose for next week.”

“Next month, more like. Have you seen the schedule lately? It’s completely booked up.”

“Because things have been so slow?”

“Mhm. Computer, end program.”

The oceanfront studio phased out of existence, and the two headed for the doors. They had started running workout programs together a few months ago, but had yet to land on a routine. They had tried hoverball tournaments, cycling through the south of France, meditative Ktarian body placements, anything to stay active — Voyager had hit a stretch of quiet space, and things had been uneventful for weeks. Not that Sam particularly minded the slower pace, but even she had to admit that the silvery hull that served as their bulwark against the cold void of space had recently started to feel like it was closing in on them.

__________

They weren’t the only ones starting to feel the sense of cabin fever. With no major issues to attend to, it seemed that everyone had a little too much time on their hands. People were doing anything to keep busy.

The smell of smoke and acrid burning hit them as they walked into the mess hall.

“Neelix!” Sam called. “Is everything alright?”

“Sorry, ladies!” Neelix called from behind the galley. “This morning's cooking lesson has gone, well, a little awry.” He was pulling smoking pans off of fires as an ensign was scrambling at a control panel, attempting to activate the ventilation protocols.

“Ashmore!” Nicoletti called. “What the hell have you done now?”

He looked up from the panel and smiled sheepishly. “Let’s just say that I won’t be attempting a blackened Talaxian brisket again anytime soon.”

“Do you need any help?” Nicoletti asked, already leaning around to look at the panel.

“Nope, just about got it,” he said as the system kicked on and the smell disappeared. “But let’s remember to tell B’Elanna the galley ventilators are being a little touchy at our next staff meeting. These power relays could be starting to degrade.”

She nodded. “Got it.”

“Well,” said Samantha, “since your lesson has been cut short, would you like to join us for breakfast?”

“Sure, thanks!” he responded. “Let me just help clean up, I’ll be right over.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll do it.” said Neelix. “But you may want to replicate something,” he said to Sam. “I’m afraid the breakfast hour has been pushed back.”

“Sorry again, Neelix,” said Ashmore.

“Not a problem! I’m always happy to help. Come back later this week and we’ll try again!”

Ashmore smiled and nodded. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

The trio replicated their respective meals, and found a table by the viewports on the far side of the mess hall.

“So, you’re learning to cook?” Sam asked as she sipped at a smoothie.

“Sort of,” he replied. “My grandmother was an incredible cook, but I never bothered picking it up.” He took a bite of his replicated eggs, and made a face. “I know it’s the same, atomically, but it’s never tastes as good as something made from scratch, you know? And since we’ve all got a little extra time these days, I thought I’d take advantage and try to hone my skills.”

“Forgive me for asking,” Nicoletti started, and then glanced over her shoulder at the galley and lowered her voice, “but aren’t there holoprograms you could run?”

He laughed. “You know, his taste buds might not always align with the rest of ours, but he’s not a bad teacher.”

“That’s true,” replied Sam. “Naomi adores her lessons with him.”

“Exactly. His energy is infectious.” Ashmore took another bite of his eggs. “Besides, have you tried to book individual holodeck time lately? It’s impossible. The schedule is completely full for the next three weeks, and word on the street is that the bartering rate is up to a full duty shift for a single hour.”

Nicoletti sighed. “Guess it’s back to laps around deck eight for the foreseeable future.”

Ashmore put his fork down. “You two should come to boxing club!” he said enthusiastically. “It beats Jeffries tube circuits, anyway.”

“To what?” Sam asked. Nicoletti had perked up.

“Boxing club,” he replied. “The commander runs it every other week on Holodeck Two. I think he and Ayala started it just to carve out some time for their own sparring, but word got around and now 10 to 15 of us show up depending on the week.”

“I’ve never boxed before,” she said.

“That‘s alright,” Ashmore replied. “Neither had I. The commander will teach you everything you need to know. I was useless when I started, but he says I’m showing signs of a mean left hook now.” He couldn’t keep the shy pride from his voice.

“We’ve got hand-to-hand basics from Academy training, Sam. You’ll be fine!”

Sam laughed. “You’re just saying that because you aced hand-to-hand.”

Nicoletti smiled. “Maybe. But it definitely sounds better than deck laps.”

She couldn’t argue there. “Alright, I’m in.”

“Great! I’ll let the commander know. Next session is on Thursday, 1800 hours.” He stood up. “I’ve got to get going, my shift is about to start. But thanks for breakfast!”

“See you then,” she replied, wondering what exactly it was that she had just agreed to.

__________

They arrived and joined the group milling outside the holodeck just as Chakotay was keying in the program. He was dressed in standard training gear, like the rest of them, but Sam had to admit: it had been awhile since she’d seen the grey undershirt worn quite so well.

“Hey!” said Ashmore, pulling her out of her momentary reverie. “You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sam replied, smiling.

“Besides,” Nicoletti said, “it’s not like we’ve got any place else to be these days.”

He laughed. “Fair. What's Naomi up to this evening?" he asked Sam.

"Play date with Jenny," she replied.

"Oh, I bet they both love that."

"You have no idea." She smiled and rolled her eyes.

The doors hissed open. “Alright, you lot,” Ayala called to the group. “You know the drill. Get wrapped up and let’s start warm ups.” He turned to Sam and Nicoletti. “First time, right?” They both nodded. “Great. Why don’t you two come with me? I’ll show you how to wrap your hands.”

They followed him into the holodeck. Inside they found a clean, well-lit gym. There were lockers and benches off to one side, and an elevated ring in the center of the room. Flags from different worlds adorned the walls; it smelled faintly of leather and something vaguely metallic that Sam couldn’t quite place. She liked it immediately.

He led them over to one of the lockers and pulled out a roll of athletic tape as the rest of the group set down their things and prepared for the session.

“I love this,” said Nicoletti as he helped her cross the tape over her wrists and across her palms. “I feel like a badass.” She straightened up as he finished, and threw a few jabs into the air to get the feel of it.

Ayala raised an eyebrow approvingly. “You're a natural.”

“Don't we need gloves?” Sam asked as he began to help her.

“Nah,” he responded. “We stick to tap sparring during these sessions. But if you find you like it and want to train up to proper gloved matches, I’m sure the commander would be happy to coach you in a few one on one sessions whenever the schedule frees up again. I’d offer, but frankly he’s a better teacher than I am.”

“You're damn right I am.”

They glanced up to find Chakotay walking over towards them.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Ayala said, grinning.

“Glad you two could join us,” he said. “You ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Nicoletti said, eyeing her wrapped fists with glee.

“That's the spirit,” he laughed. “Alright, go ahead and join the others. We’ll start with standard drills and close the session out with some sparring if you feel up to it.”

Sam must have looked a little nervous, because he caught her eye and winked. “You'll be great.”

__________

“Wildman! Get your ass up here.”

The rest of the group started to whistle and heckle, and she waved them off as she laughed and ducked under the ropes into the ring. She had been amazed by how quickly the time had passed as they had run drill after drill, building form piece by piece. She had found that she loved it; its repetitive, reactionary nature didn't allow the space for her to think about anything else - and these days, that was just what she needed.

“Show ‘em how it’s done, Sam!” Ashmore called, laughing.

“Watch your nine Commander, she’s got a stealthy hook!”

“Three rations on Wildman,” said Ayala.

“I’ll take that bet,” Nicoletti replied, and they shook hands.

“Hey!” she called over her shoulder, laughing. “I can hear you!” Ayala shot her a grin and an encouraging nod and Nicoletti just shrugged.

Chakotay was smiling at her. “Ready?”

She shook out her shoulders and lowered her chin, settling into position. “As I'll ever be.”

Ashmore rang the bell, and they started to move. The laughs and heckles of their friends faded out as she began to truly focus on their match. He was conservative, elegant in his movements – not an errant gesture, nothing wasted. He shifted and flowed easy as water. She mirrored him, and without noticing, in counterbalancing, her movement became graceful and fluid as well. They were dancing now – circling, caught in each other's gravity.

“Good,” he said. “Stay light.” He started to throw a few light taps here and there. She was knocked off balance each time she dodged, and felt herself becoming clumsier.

“Come back,” he said. “Stop thinking about it.” He tossed out another quick right hook and she tipped backwards, weight pitching into her heels, arms swinging out for balance.

“Woah!” He reached out and grabbed her arm to pull her back upright, and she stumbled into him. “You okay?” he asked, concerned.

She nodded, catching her breath, and became acutely aware of his solid chest pressed against her, her hands grasping his biceps. He smelled good: of fresh, clean sweat and something sharp and woody. She felt a sudden flush of warmth and quickly stepped back.

“Want to sub out?” he asked.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and grinned. “Hell, no, sir.”

He nodded at her approvingly. “Good. Alright, reset.”

“Yeah! Get him, Sam!” someone called. They both laughed.

“Let's go, blues!”

“Whatever, lab rat.”

The group broke into laughter and ribbing.

She shook out her shoulders and raised her fists. “Ready.”

They began to circle each other again, and this time she let her mind fall blank. She was entirely reactive. He stepped forward, she stepped back. He stepped back, she stepped forward. He threw a quick, light jab and before she could even think about it she had already dodged and was shifting back to center again – flowing like water.

She started to throw a few taps of her own. It was as if her body knew to wind up before her mind did – she’d see something, a shift in his stance or a look in his eye, and suddenly know he was about to drop his guard. It was instinct.

He blocked every hit, but he was delighted. “Good, good!” He’d laugh each time she made contact with his parry. “Yes, Wildman, good! Arms up, protect your face.”

They were really sparring now. Their friends had started cheering and whistling in earnest from the ropes. They were moving more quickly: point, counterpoint. She blinked the sweat from her eyes and was about to pull back when she saw it – a slight shift in his stance, a lateral twist. Suddenly she knew certain as daybreak what was coming; it was as if time slowed and all she could hear was the echo of her own breath. He started to wind up, pitching his weight back and circling back up through his shoulder for momentum. She feigned a block, drawing her hands up, but just before he made contact, she shifted her weight and slipped around to the side – just enough to dodge. He pitched forward in the absence of the hit, and it was enough to throw him off balance. She tapped him twice in the side – a quick one-two. He was already off-center, and with gravity tugging at his larger frame, it was enough. He stumbled and hit the mat on his knees.

The ring was silent for a moment, and then he rolled over and started laughing, and all hell broke loose.

Their friends were going wild, and she saw Ayala and Nicoletti shaking hands. She reached down to offer him a hand. He took it, and she helped him to his feet.

“Well done, Sam!”

“Thank you sir.” She was smiling wide, flushed from exertion and adrenaline.

“Did you feel the difference?” He started explaining, demonstrating posture and parrying techniques. His arms were strong and graceful as he modeled different movements, showing her how to engage her core to support her swing. He moved like a dancer. He placed a hand gently on her trapezius, then her lats, demonstrating the muscle groups to engage. Her stomach fluttered at the warmth of his hand over her ribs. She had completely stopped listening by the time she realized he had asked her a question, so she just nodded and hoped it was an appropriate response.

He grinned and clapped her on the shoulder. Then he looked over towards their friends and tossed his head. “Ayala, let’s go!”

__________

“Hey,” he said, as she and Nicoletti were packing packing their things to go. “Good work today.”

“Thank you,” she replied, hoisting her bag over her shoulder. “You’re a good teacher.”

He smiled. She wasn’t sure she had ever noticed his dimples before. In fact, she wasn’t sure she had ever really thought about him much at all, outside of the context of the command hierarchy. She had always thought he was handsome, of course, but handsome in the way that a bust in a museum is handsome – in passing, and hardly worth another thought. She didn’t interact much with the bridge crew, after all, aside from the odd briefing here and there when the situation called for it. Instead, she spent most of her days in the depths of the exobiology lab, and most of her evenings with Naomi. And well — out of sight, out of mind.

“Will I see the two of you again?” he asked, glancing between the them.

“Well, it’s a small ship,” Nicoletti replied, “so I would assume so.”

Sam snorted, and attempted, unsuccessfully, to mask it as a cough.

He glanced over at her and chuckled as she tried to make a graceful recovery. “Very good. Watch out, Wildman. I won’t go easy on you next time.”

“No, sir,” she replied, and then, without thinking: “I should hope not.”

A surprised grin began to spread across his face, but in the split-second it took for her brain to catch up with her mouth, she had already turned and was making an embarrassed beeline for the door.

“Thanks, Commander,” she heard Nicoletti toss over her shoulder, already chasing after her. “We’ll be back!”

__________

She had to jog to to catch up. “Hey, Sam?” she asked, pulling up alongside her. She heard the unrestrained laughter in her voice, and had a pretty good idea of where this was going.

“Yes?” She tightened her grip on her gym bag, and didn’t slow down. She wanted to get as far away from the holodeck as humanly possible before the next words came out of her friend’s mouth.

“Hi, sorry, quick question — WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” she shouted.

“I don’t know!” Sam replied, and they dissolved into a fit of laughter, clinging to each other and nearly doubled over in the middle of the corridor. She was wiping tears away by the time she was able to catch her breath.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I swear it came out of nowhere.”

“God, woman. What are we going to _do_ with you?”

“I don’t know, but next time _you’re_ going in the ring. I’ve had quite enough, I think.”

Nicoletti nodded, unconvinced. “Mhm. We’ll see about that.”

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: any factual errors should be attributed to the fact that this author does not, at present, box. although, honestly, this kind of makes me want to take it up? stay tuned, folks.


End file.
